


Fleurs Ivres

by crowe (thordasgay)



Series: Stupid, Gay French Boys Hopelessly in Love [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, Sweet Angst, bluh, it;s 12 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thordasgay/pseuds/crowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Grantaire says the wrong thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleurs Ivres

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this](http://nsfwsb.tumblr.com/post/45879123627/aww-pretty-baby-did-you-actually-think-he-loved) and [this](http://nsfwsb.tumblr.com/post/46047114031/anon-i-like-the-way-you-think)
> 
> okie dokie it's 12am and i only cried twice wowsers

So maybe they took Grantaire an hour and three glasses of wine to pick out, but Grantaire finally found the perfect flowers for Jehan. They were the perfect balance of reds and blues, each petal crisp and fresh. No flower outshone the other, but was a bouquet of vibrancy Grantaire could not wait to see intertwined in Jehan's nearly translucent, long blond hair.

 

He paid the cashier and walked out the door, tripping on the same water hose twice. He couldn't wait to run his fingers through Jehan's hair and kiss him as hard and intense as he could. He wanted to do something special for Jehan, to really show his appreciation. Grantaire turned a corner and another corner, each building passing through a haze. He was eurphoric, floating on a cloud. Despite the arguments they had, Grantaire hoped this would fix it. He knew Jehan loved nature more than anything, especially flowers. In every one of Jehan's peoms that Grantaire had read, there was at lead one comparison to a flower. Jehan saw beauty in everything and that's what Grantaire needed.

Their most recent argument was the most painful. Grantaire had showed up at Jehan's flat drunk, which wasn't out of the ordinary, but he was more drunk than usual. His speech was harshly slurred and he could barely stand up. Jehan, being a proper boyfriend, helped Grantaire to the couch and layed him down. Grantaire, being a improper boyfriend and a horny maniac, had sex with Jehan.

In the middle of the heat, the vigor, and the fury, Grantaire was an imbecile. Because of being more drunk that unsually, was slow to censor and barely caught himself the other times, but it slipped out.

"Enjolras!"

Every particle in space froze as the name echoed through the flat. Tears welled up in Jehan's eyes and Grantaire knew he didn't want him to notice, so he didn't.

"Jehan, I-" His floral lover unraveled himself from the drunk and waled out of the bedroom. Grantaire tried stumbling after, but couldn't make it. Everything in Grantaire stomach made it's exit into the trash can next to the door. He remembered nothing after that.

Grantaire appeared outside of Jehan's door, number 413, cleared his throat and knocked on the door, but the door was open. Grantaire clutched his flowers and walked in. The flat was neat, except for a few papers strewn here and there.

"Jehan!" Grantaire called into the emptiness. He looked in a cupboard, but he wasn't sure why, until he heard rustling coming from the bathroom. As Grantaire drew closer, he also hear sniffling coming from inside and failed attempts to regain composure. He found the bathroom and light flooded out of the door. Grantaire whispered Jehan's name again, causing the whole flat to go deathly silent. He did not dare enter until Jehan confirmed he could.

"No, Grantaire, leave!" Jehan sobbed. Jehan's soft voice was poisoned with rage and regret, hoarse from crying.

"Jehan, love. You weren't here this morning," Grantaire mumbled through his confusion. Jehan should have let him in, let him embrace Jehan. Grantaire wanted to hug him and kiss away the tears with apologies he knew wouldn't work, because they never do.

"Why should I have been? Even though this is my flat, you were still here!" Jehan gasped. "I was certainly sure you would have left to see your dear Apollo!" The words stung Grantaire and sliced through his chest. Grantaire pushed open the door and what he saw was something no apology could erase. Jehan's hair littered the floor and the flowers fell from Grantaire's hand, mixing in with the loose strands of hair.

"Jehan, why did you cut your hair?" Grantaire fell to the spot next to Jehan and tentatively reached his hand up to touch Jehan's head, but he stopped him with a brutal force. Jehan and Grantaire just sared at each other before Jehan spoke up.

"I did it," He hiss through clenched teeth, "so you could realise that I am a person. I want to form a seperate image in your mind. Seperate from Enjolras!" He stood up and hair flew everywhere. Before walking out the door, Jehan reached down and picked up the flowers at Grantaire's knees and left.

\----

Jehan ran down the street, leaving Grantaire in his flat. Feeling the strange wind on his scalp made the tears come faster. He dodged people and items, running nowhere and everywhere.

Thoughts plagued his mind.

He is not Enjolras.

He will never be Enjolras in Grantaire's mind.

He should have seen this coming.

The way Grantaire always eyed Enjolras eagerly, but when he was rejected, came sauntering over to Jehan.

Jehan knew he would always come back to Grantaire in the end, despite how many tears are to be shed.

He heard someone calling his name and running after him. Half of him prayed it wasn't Grantaire and half prayed it was.

But no, it was the greek god himself. Something inside of Jehan made him stop and turn to Enjolras.

"Lord, Jehan, I hard recognised you," Enjolras panted. Seeing his long hair pained Jehan and the flowers were starting to wither in his tight grip. Enjolras noticed the tears before Jehan could turn his head away. "Jehan, what happened?"

Jehan laughed sarcastically and sauntered over to the park across from him. So he did know where he was running. He knew Enjolras was following him, so he sat down in front a tree. Enjolras sat down next to him and grabbed his hand. 

"Talk to me, Jehan." He murmered, melting into the marble political leader he knew. Jehan couldn't tell. This was his own private business

and yet he did.

No other words were exchanged except for meaningful glances. Whatever Enjolras felt was cleverly masked by years of practice. He gently pried the flowers out of Jehan's grip and situated himself to where he was behind Jehan, who leaned pathetically against him.

There, in the middle of the park, knowing flowers were so dear to Jehan, Enjolras taught Jehan how to make flower crowns. The only words that were uttered were the instructions coming from Enjolras, who in return, made Jehan calm and clear-minded.

It would be a while before his hair was long again, but at least he could still wear his flowers.


End file.
